Essay by Leni Marlina
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The nights of West Sumatra possess their own quiet rituals for compelling a person to pause. House lights soften, the sound of passing vehicles fades like a memory swallowed by distance, and the wind carries with it a lingering scent of the faraway sea. In such hours, the world grants space to subtler presences: the murmur of the heart, memories damp with dew, and words that have long waited to be invited home. In a small nagari in Padang Pariaman, inside a modest house, a man sits before the pale glow of his laptop screen. His name is Armaidi Tanjung—writer, academic, journalist—shaped by the rigor of reportage, the depth of historical inquiry, and the sensibility nurtured through years of engagement with literary communities. Yet on that long and quiet night, something else emerged: a gentle voice that affirmed how poetry can become a path toward inner peace.
Armaidi Tanjung with Syarifuddin Arifin (distinguished poet and artist), Prof. Harris Effendi Thahar (renowned writer and scholar), and Sastri Bakry (prominent author and Chairperson of SatuPena West Sumatra) during the Launching and Critical Review of the bilingual poetry volume “Dinda, Tahajudmu yang Menggoda” (2025).
Image credit: A. Tanjung Documentation, via LM.
“Dinda, Tahajudmu yang Menggoda” is more than a bilingual poetry collection translated by Siska Saputri (Indonesian–English). It is a pilgrimage—a contemplative journey woven from longing, prayer, and the slow-rising clarity of the spirit. Known primarily for his nonfiction and journalistic writings, Armaidi reveals here another dimension of himself: a writer who speaks from his most unguarded, tender interior, a place where language does not merely inform but heals. In this essay, I invite readers to retrace the birth of the book—from the arrival of its earliest words, through its layered creative process, to the social and spiritual meanings embedded in each poem.
Between Fact and Feeling: A Shift, Not a Leap
For many writers rooted in journalism, stepping into poetry is often seen as a risky leap. Journalism demands precision, verification, and allegiance to fact; poetry demands vulnerability—the courage to articulate the inarticulable. Yet for Armaidi, the transition was not a leap but a harmonious shift.
“When the world becomes too loud, poetry gives me depth,” he confided.
This is not mere rhetoric; it is a key to understanding how years of disciplined writing eventually distilled into a poetic voice.
Journalism taught him structure—how to anchor ideas, how to substantiate a claim. Poetry taught him the opposite: how to release control, how to trust uncertainty, and how to let metaphor lead the way. In Dinda, traces of both disciplines coexist. Each line feels carefully placed, almost like fact-checking in reverse—testing tone, weighing silence, measuring resonance.
Here lies the book’s strength: the meeting of inner accuracy and imaginative freedom.
“Dinda”: A Name, an Invocation, an Open Door
One of the book’s most compelling aesthetic choices is the use of the name “Dinda.” Armaidi intentionally keeps this identity open-ended. Dinda may be a beloved, a luminous memory, a figure shaped by longing, or even the face a prayer takes when it wishes to be seen. By withholding definition, Armaidi offers readers a mirror rather than a portrait—inviting them to place their own stories within the name.
If “Dinda” is a face, then tahajud is the light that reveals it.
Here, “tahajud” is not merely the late-night Islamic prayer; it is a state of being, a spiritual threshold where one’s most honest words are born. In the hush of the night, when the material world recedes, language softened by truth can finally surface.
Through this lens, the poems in the book do not merely express—they transform.
Writing as a Sipritual Practice
Armaidi states:
“Writing is my other tahajud.”
This statement positions writing as a spiritual practice. Across many mystical traditions, artistic creation has long been considered a form of remembrance—a meditative act that binds the human soul to the Divine. For Armaidi, writing poetry becomes a dialogue that moves beyond ego: an acknowledgment that words can soothe, awaken, and liberate.
This spiritual posture shapes Armaidi’s poetic style. He does not write to impress; he writes so that his words may become a resting place for others. His poems speak gently, leaving space—silence becomes part of the message. Such silence is not absence but completion: an invitation for readers to breathe, reflect, and discover their own inner tremor.
Armaidi admits there is one poem he considers the most honest. He does not reveal which, only that it arose from a “small loss” whose crack extended far beyond its size. This confession draws readers in, urging them to search for the poem stitched with the greatest tenderness.
Armaidi’s language is concise yet rich. Rather than using elaborate metaphors or ornate structures, he chooses everyday images—dew on a window, a returning step, a lamp dimming—then folds them into larger meanings. This creates poems that feel familiar yet profound, intimate yet expansive.
Community and the Soil of Creativity
Armaidi’s creative journey did not unfold in solitude.
SATUPENA-West Sumatra, a literacy organization and writers’ community, became an essential space where his words were tested, encouraged, and refined. Such communities often serve as quiet engines for a writer’s growth—offering feedback, hosting readings, and creating networks that nurture courage.
For Armaidi, SATUPENA-West Sumatra is a home without walls—a place where words are free and creative fire rekindles. The emergence of “Dinda, Tahajudmu yang Menggoda” underscores how literature is rarely born from isolation but from dialogue—with peers, with tradition, with the social world surrounding it.
Cultural Context: Minangkabau Sensibilities
Although the themes of longing, prayer, and loss are universal, the local spirit of Minangkabau is palpable. The cadence of the language, the imagery of Padang’s coastal nights, and the traces of oral traditions subtly shape the book’s aesthetic. These cultural nuances enrich the poems, offering readers both rootedness and authenticity.
Style: Spare, Intense, Alluring
One of the book’s most noteworthy qualities is its stylistic restraint. Armaidi avoids exaggeration; he relies on precision. Each word feels chosen with deliberation, like carefully placed stones. Rhythm, repetition, and pauses guide the reader’s breath. A seemingly simple stanza may deepen as it lingers, its resonance unfolding slowly.
This is what makes the poems “seductive”—they call the reader back, inviting rereading and re-experiencing.
Social Relevance: When the World Rushes, Poetry Reminds Us to Stay Human
In a digital age saturated with constant information, human attention becomes fragile. Poetry offers an antidote—a way to reclaim slowness. “Dinda, Tahajudmu yang Menggoda” makes a gentle yet powerful argument:
When the world races, poetry invites us to stop.
This is not nostalgia but a subtle resistance against cultures that demand relentless productivity. Reading poetry becomes a small political act: choosing presence over haste. In this sense, Dinda is not merely an artistic work but an ethical one—an invitation to recover a humane rhythm.
Armaidi describes his creative flow as a blend of poems that strike like lightning and poems that grow like roots. The lightning moments arrive when the heart is open; the rooted ones develop through quiet, persistent revisiting. Both, he suggests, are indispensable.
This metaphor reveals a fundamental truth about creative work: inspiration provides the spark, but patience gives the spark a place to live.
Every good book ends not with a period but with a door. In Dinda, that door leads home—the place where readers may rest their own longing. When asked to write a single line capturing his entire writing journey, Armaidi offered:
“I walk carrying words, and the words, in the end, guide me home.”
This line summarizes the book’s ethos: writing is a homecoming—to oneself, to memory, to a quiet and unextinguished light.
Conclusion: Poetry as a Space of Peace
“Dinda, Tahajudmu yang Menggoda” is not merely a collection of beautiful poems; it is an ethical and spiritual gesture in literary form. Armaidi demonstrates that a writer grounded in fact can still immerse himself deeply in the inner world. His journalistic roots steady the poems; his spirituality warms them.
The book reminds us that amid the clamor of the age, there remains room to pause—to kneel, to remember, to long. Poetry is one of the ways we keep that room alive.
Readers may open this book on a quiet night or at dawn when the city’s voice is still hesitant. Wherever it is read, the book will sit gently beside them—a small home along the long journey. And for its author, Dinda becomes testament that words can lead one home—not only the writer, but anyone willing to open its pages and allow themselves to be touched. (LM)
